


Lost and Found

by duuude_wtf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, slow burn destiel, smut content is undecided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-31 23:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6491494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duuude_wtf/pseuds/duuude_wtf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Werewolves, witches, and humans. Oh my!</p><p>A Supernatural AU with runaway Dean and Sam.</p><p>Originally posted on Wattpad (DaddysLilM0nster)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Getaway Car

**Author's Note:**

> This piece of work is a passing hobby as writer's block is unfortunately rife in my life, so it may not get updated as often as others.

The room was filled with the absence of light apart from a tacky alarm which flashed the time, the light illuminating the motel's room with a neon red glow. A loud snore-snuffle ripped through the dead silence, startling Dean as he sat motionless in a battered and bruised armchair, drifting in and out of conscious, with a half empty bottle of whiskey dangling between his fingers.

Dean couldn't believe how Sam could haven fallen into such a deep sleep in such a nosy place. They've sure as hell had their share of disgusting, loud motel rooms, but this place had to be the worst; the walls were practically dripping with damp, loud traffic echoed in noisily from outside, and Dean was pretty damn sure he could smell how soiled the sheets were on his unmade bed. No way in hell was he ever going to sleep in grey sheets that had matching white stains with the occasional red.

Sighing heavily and rubbing a hand over his eyes wearily, he thought over the decisions he had made; leaving his home, actually letting Sam come along after days of begging, and his dream of going somewhere new getting out of the 'family business'. Their home-town of never-ending-gloom-and-depression -as Dean liked to call it- was exactly that. Nothing happened ever. For example, one year the mail route changed and started to come on weekdays and not weekends instead of every day and that was the most exciting thing to happen ever there.

People like Dean are just not cut out for places like that, they're just too restless. People like Sam though, people like Sam were practically made for towns like that; three-storey houses with a green garden and white picket fence, 2.5 kids and a family dog. The only reason Sam would ever leave that town was because of Dean. Thus this crazy plan to go to a new place, no matter where or what as long as it was exciting. They packed up Dean's car - a Chevrolet that his Dad had given him on his 18th birthday- and got the hell out.


	2. Wake Up Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my chapters are probably going to be this length.

"Dean, come on, man. Wake up." A voice commanded, breaking the warm haze of sleep. Dean's eyes blinked open to Sam looking down at him with a chiding expression.

"What." He yawned, scrubbing at the sleep in his eyes. God, it's too early for this shit. Just another hour or two. Yeah, two more hours would be good, he thought lazily as his hand stroked the wet stains where he dribbled the whiskey on his chest by accident last night.

"We gotta go. The payment on this room is almost up, and I don't like the look of the owner." Sam fretted as he turned to his open, half packed gym bag on his bed and began shoving his clothes in haphazardly, not caring if they creased just as long as they fitted in.

"What's that got to do with it?" Dean grumbled, dragging himself up and snagging the bottle of whiskey from the floor, looking in disappointment at the spilled liquid. Such a waste of a fine drink, he thought as he rubbed his foot across the spill.

"Dean," Sam sighed, glancing behind at him. "Hurry up, I wouldn't put it past him to call the cops, or come round here with a shotgun, demanding more money."

"Skinny rat like that?" He scoffed, thinking back to the dirty, disheveled image the slim man had presented with his cigarette hanging limply from his mouth and his mismatched clothes. The skinny rat that had demanded money in a rough voice before almost coughing up a lung, all the while keeping the cigarette firmly glued to his bitten-down lips. "I could take him."

"Dean. Stop messing about, we've got to go. Although, God knows where we're going next. Hopefully it's better than this shit-hole." The younger brother muttered bitterly, looking at the peeling walls in disgust and going to get his 'lucky' knife from the bedside table.

"Relax, Sammy." Dean rolled his eyes, grabbing his gym bag from beside the other bed, he hadn't bothered unpacking last night and only opened it to get his whiskey bottle out.

"My name's not Sammy." Sam sighed, hauling his gym bag onto his shoulder and glaring at Dean.

"Sure it is." Dean said simply, grabbing his own gym bag and turning to face Sam.

"Sammy's a chubby, little 12 year-old that reads sci-fi comics as bedtime stories." He said as he pushed past Dean to the door and disappeared towards the hall.

"Please, you still read them." Dean called after him, a smirk tugging at his lips.


	3. A Worrying Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam have a brief heart-to-heart.

"Dean?" Sam asked haltingly, fidgeting in the passengers seat. He had been acting shifty since getting in the car three hours ago and now Dean was finally going to find out.

"Was what we did okay? Like, we didn't abandon Dad, did we? Or leave him to fend for himself." Sam muttered, sounding troubled. Dean knew this conversation was going to happen sooner than later. He'd just always hoped it would be later. Unfortunately, he was wrong. Again.

"No, Sam, we didn't abandon him." He sighed as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the old leather creaking under the stress. "He's got Ms. Latham from next door bringing him pie every week and he's got his buddies down at the drinking hole. Don't worry, he'll be fine."

"Are you sure? 'Cause, you know, after mom and stuff, I just... I just figured that..."

"What? That he'd need us there to coddle him, to make him feel weak because he can't look after himself?" Dean said angrily, "Dad was in the Marines. He learned a lot there, how to survive any event. Hell, the sky could fall and he'd be alright. Dad can get through anything."

"Yeah, alright, Dean. But there's a huge difference between being able to survive a sky falling and being able to survive your wife being murdered." Sam retorted back, turning to stare out the window instead of facing Dean.

"Depends who you ask, Sammy." Dean mumbled before clocking the sign for 'Limon, Colorado'. "Now shut up, we're at our next destination."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am from England and have no clue about states, routes or cities in America. I just tried to find a city closest to Kansas in Colorado and saw Limon. The Google pictures looked alright, so don't blame me for picking unlikely cities of whatnot, blame Google.


	4. The Sighting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is from Castiel's pov, and it's not beta-d so mistakes are my own

Pulling his neon-blue work jacket tighter around him, Castiel flinched away from the screeching police siren that sounded loudly next him. Of course, the convenience store would be held up while Castiel was working his shift alone and rocking a horrid hangover. It couldn't have been Gabriel's shift, ohhhh no. It had to be his. The universe hates him, it's the only explanation.

There he was, just trying to fix the milkshake machine, when a hunched-over man strolled in wearing a pulled down trucker cap and a leather trench coat and also just happened bumped into Castiel, making banana milkshake spill out like a tidal wave across the floor. To be honest, the leather trench coat should've really been a tip off. But it doesn't matter because the gun that the man held shakily up to him before demanding cash from the register really tipped him off.

Now, he was standing outside the store trying to hear the young cop over the loud siren. He was obviously a rookie, which was evidenced by the way he fumbled with his pen and paper and how he had also forgotten to turn his damn siren off.

"Now, what - suspect do - before threate - you with - gun?" Officer Johansson questioned, the siren cutting him off at every other word.

"What?!" Castiel shouted over the noise.

"WHAT DID - SPECT DO BEFO - ATENING YOU - THE GUN?!" Johansson shouted back at Castiel, somehow unable to grasp the simple concept of turning off the siren before continuing.

"I don't - I can't hear you!" Cas yelled toward him, making cutting notions at his ears to symbolize this problem. Johansson quickly grasped what he was getting at and leaned through his car window to switch off the siren. Castiel could finally hear his own thoughts and smiled gratefully at the officer.

"Thank you. Now what were you asking?"

"I was asking what did the suspect do before threate-"

Before the officer could finish his sentence, a low grumble echoed around them and the faint sounds of AC/DC could be heard, like a calling to arms. Just then, a sleek black Chevy Impala slowly peeled around the corner which made Cas' rusty bicycle look... Well, like a rusty bicycle in comparison. The car slowly crawled along the sidewalk, the driver's window winding down as it pulls up in front of Castiel and Officer Johansson.

Cas will swear until his dying days that his heart stopped beating for a full thirty seconds when he laid eyes on the vision of perfection that was behind the wheel. For a second, he had thought the robber must've shot him because no way in hell should someone that beautiful be allowed on Earth.

Cas could write sonnets about the magnificent green of his eyes, could sculpt that jawline out of stone and it would still pale in comparison to the real thing. Unfortunately, Castiel has neither the time or resources to do either so he'll just have to settle with all-out gaping at the man while simultaneously trying to act "cool". It was a difficult feat to say the least, but he thinks he got away with it.

"Hey there, we're looking for a hotel? Is there any near by?" The vision asked, his voice rumbling lowly sending shivers down Cas' spine.

What was he doing?! He's in his early 20s for crying out loud, he's not a fourteen year old with a pimple problem and a sticky-sheets syndrome anymore.

Officer Johansson was quick to help, replying, "There's Hotel Marigold on the next street and there's the Lonely Hearts Hotel a few more streets down."

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Cas replied, "Marigold has a better name, but Lonely Hearts is cheaper so take your pick." He finished awkwardly, fidgeting with his hands and glancing at the ground instead of the mellow green eyes.

Said mellow green eyes squinted suddenly as a large grin broke out across the man's face. Cas sighed internally, this man cannot possibly be anymore out of his league, he thought.

"Thanks for the help, man. I'm Sam, and this is Dean." A young man with floppy hair said as he leaned across Dean to wave with a perfect grin on his face. Makes sense, Castiel thought dejectedly, two beautiful men like that are most likely together.

"I'm Castiel, and this is Officer Johansson." Johansson smiled woodenly and held out his hand for Sam and Dean, who both shook it politely.

"Well, see you around, fellas" the officer said curtly, a clear dismissal.

Dean grinned cheekily at the officer and the Impala suddenly roaring back into action, making Johansson jump slightly.

"Nice to meet you guys. See you around, Castiel." Dean said before pulling off the sidewalk and winking at him before driving off towards the hotels.

Oh, he's fucked.


	5. Chapter 5: Another Chance Meeting.

Standing in the queue at the convenience store was one of the most boring parts of the day, along with one of the most horrifying. As Sam stood in the queue, he could feel the wet pants of the mountain of a man that stood behind him against his neck, as well as having perfect viewing opportunity of the saggy, wrinkly butt of a women well-into-her-sixties-but-still-sporting-see-through-leopard-leggings in front. Yeah, horrifying.

"Next." A deep voice droned from the checker's counter. Even though there was supposedly two people on the checkout, the queue was still moving incredibly slow. Sam's mind drifted back to Kansas and to his dad. His mom's death had been hard on them all, especially his dad who had been obsessing over finding the murderer and bringing him to justice. He even tried to drag Sam and Dean into the obsession but they'd only been young when their mom died and couldn't fully commit to it. Eventually he gave up trying to include them and started to ignore them instead, focusing more on tracking the murderer down. Their father hadn't said a word to them in the three months before they decided to leave. Not so much as glanced at them. Sam wasn't sure if he was starting to regret the decision to leave Kansas and his dad or if he was just sick of motels.

"Move!" A gruff voice shouted from behind pulling Sam from daydream, "Hey, asshole, did you not hear me?! I said move!" A rough hand pushed at his shoulder, forcing him forward and to the conclusion he was next in the queue.

"Screw you." Sam muttered over his shoulder at the man, whose face was getting redder and redder. Gaining his composure, he walked to the free cash register and placed his basket on the counter, eyes catching on the stack of red lollipops next to the register.

"Wow. I thought I was gonna get my own private viewing of All American Wrestling then." A teasing voice muttered to Sam, causing him to look up. He was instantly struck by the man's whiskey-colored eyes and the seemingly almost-permanent smirk on his face as he eyed up Sam, "What a shame. You'd look good in spandex."

"Er- I guess?" He muttered back awkwardly, a pink blush quickly heating up his face and turning his ears red. Thank god they were hidden by his hair. "I haven't really worn spandex before."

"Well, there's always a first time for everything." The man commented as he scanned Sam's items, completing the flirty effect with a salacious and over-the-top wink. Sam's blush deepened even more as he started to flail his hands about in an attempt to not seem awkward. Obviously, it's was going smashingly.

"Y-yeah, I guess so" Sam nervously chuckled. Get a hold of yourself! He thought chidingly to himself. Grown men do not get flustered over a wink and a lewd comment. He quickly shook his head as he handed over a few cash notes and started to bag his items.

"If you ever need any help with the spandex, here's my number." Gabriel - his name tag read - stated as he handed over the change and a piece of paper with a phone number scrawled messily on it, winking one last time and grinning a smug smirk.

Sam walked out of the store on autopilot to the Impala with a dazed expression and a promise to make a phone call.

And to think, he only went to the convenience store because Dean would not stop bitching about the lack of food in the motel that was actually edible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your little dash of Sabriel to brighten your day

**Author's Note:**

> Love you all for making it through this far ❤️
> 
> Please share, kudos and leave a comment


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